Missing Pieces
by PirateWannabe
Summary: A suicide letter. A locked door. A poisoned body. An agent down. DRR/MSR!


Author's Note: I don't own any of the characters, perhaps with the exception of Monica Reyes, 'cause I'm her. *sagenod* But anyway, they all come from the wonderful (if somewhat twisted) mind of C.C. The plot is my own lovely creation. *coughs* So, anyway, please read and enjoy, and review as well!  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
John Doggett walked down the hallway, headed for Monica Reyes' appartment. He'd noticed something different about her lately - she was more distant, and seemed less and less like the Monica he knew. He reached her door, and was about to knock, when something white taped to the wood caught his attention. It was a letter addressed to him.  
  
The writing on the front was plain, but he easily recognized it as Monica's handwriting. Curiousity getting the better of him, Doggett pulled the paper off the door, and unfolded it. His eyes scanned the paper momentarily, and then settled upon the top line.  
  
iDear John,  
Have you ever just sat in the park and watched the people? I like to think that I can tell where they've come from, and where they're going. I know exactly what you're thinking right now; you think I'm off my rocker, don't you? I can always tell what you're thinking. You've always thought my "intuitions" were madness, haven't you, John? But crazy as it sounds, I know you trust me. Hell, you've trusted me with you life already. Now I wonder if that's even enough for me anymore.  
I saw a woman pushing her baby in a stroller yesterday. She looked so happy - not a single wrinkle on her blissful face. And I sat there and wondered: Why can't I be her? Even Dana, with all her worries and woes...even she looks happy when William smiles at her. I smile so rarely now.  
Have you noticed that, John? No, of course not. I'm not even sure you'll be the one to read this - you don't seem to notice me anymore. Did you ever?  
I was foolish to think that you would ever truly see me. First it was Luke, your totally obsession with the loss of your son. That I could understand...but now...now it's Dana. Why is it like this John? Why do you seem to see me somedays, and sometimes not? Why does your gaze seem to be for me alone at times, and other times dismiss me in your eagerness to see her?  
I can't live like that, John. I can't live from day to day, soaring on highs that I know will later send me crashing painfully to the hard ground. Which finally brings me to the point of my letter, after the many ramblings of my hurting head.   
I love you, John.  
I never told you that before, first out of respect for your divorce and later because of your obvious devotion to Dana. Isn't it funny how everything I say revolves around her, and as much as I want to hate her for it, I can't?  
You know, John, I've never been the type to use up space by aimlessly doodling about my love life. But now I just have to say it: I love you, I love you, I love you!  
And it is because I know that you will never see me as more than a friend that I write this letter. I can't live with this pain any longer. Goodbye, John. Always remember me as a friend.  
~Monica Reyes/i  
  
First all he felt was a numb shock, the meaning of the letter evading his clouded mind. Then suddenly he seemed to be enveloped in a frigid embrace, and his gut clenched as the meaning became clear. "Holy shit!" He swore, and began to pound on the door. "Monica! Monica! Open up! It's John!" This evoked no response, and the sudden terror gained an even firmer hold upon him.  
  
His shaking hands reached into his pocket, fumbling his wallet as he searched for his driver's license. His movements were less than precise, but he got the job done - the card slipped the lock, and the door cracked open. Doggett's first thought was to go blasting into the room, race to her side, and play the hero in saving her life. Rationale kicked in, and he realized how dangerous that could be - if she had a gun to her head, it might frighten her into pulling the trigger. So he cautiously pushed the door open, trying to keep his rampant emotions at bay.  
She was there, lying lifeless upon the floor, an empty glass not far from her open hand. She had poisoned herself. His breath caught in his throat, and he choked back a scream. Instead, John Doggett raced to his partner's side, feeling frantically for a pulse. "Monica! Monica, can you hear me?" There was no response.  
  
His hands sought her wrist, and he exhaled in relief as his fingers found her pulse - weak, but there. Doggett stumbled to his feet, and ran for the phone, hastily dialing 911. "Agent down - attempted suicide!" He shouted, not able to hold it in any longer. The voice at the other end of the line was calm, and politely asked him for the address, which he gave to her in a monotone. Then he dropped the phone into the reciever, and walked numbly over to Monica's side.  
  
A few minutes later, he heard the sounds of approaching sirens. What happened next became a blur in his memories - questions, medical technicians appearing and then walking out, his partner's limp body being loaded onto a stretcher...he vaguely remembered Dana Scully walking in, and gently holding his hand, leading him to her car and driving him to the hospital. Nothing registered, beyond one simple fact: Monica was dying, perhaps already dead.  
It seemed ages that he sat in the waiting room, with Scully sitting next to him, trying her best to look calm. He looked at her then, through the haze of his fears, and he saw her, really and truly. He saw a woman who fought back her own pain to steady the nerves of a friend. He saw a woman that he had once thought he loved...He saw a woman who was deeply in love with someone else, someone who had been stolen away from her.  
  
Someone had been stolen away from him.  
  
Scully murmured something to him about needing a drink, and he nodded blankly. As soon has she had left, he reached into his pocket, pulling out Reyes' letter. His hands shook, and his breath came in ragged bursts as he sought out a pen, using the back of her letter to write his own in reply.  
  
An hour later, the doctor appeared, and beckoned for Doggett to follow him. As they walked, the doctor explained that they'd managed to use an antidote for the poision, and that Agent Reyes was now entering the recovery stage. They stopped at a door numbered '111', and stepped inside.  
  
There she was. She had scanners and IVs attached to her body, and little screens which bleeped an awkward melody surrounding her, but she was there. Reyes. bHis/b Reyes.  
  
His breath caught in his throat as her eyes fluttered open, and he found himself suddenly at her side, wanting more than anything else to be the first person she saw. "John?" She quieried, her voice rasping in her throat. That was when he broke down. John Doggett, the normally unemotional FBI agent, started crying. He hadn't cried like that since...since Luke's death.  
  
"John?" She repeated, and he moved his hand to capture hers, squeezing it so hard that she had to ask him to loosen his grip. "Is that my letter?" Her gaze rested upon his other hand, which still held the piece of paper.  
  
"It is," he replied, lifting it up to stare at it. "And I wrote something back. Would you like me to read it?" She nodded mutely, and he cleared his throat.  
  
i"Dear Monica,  
I do care for Dana, Monica. I trust her like a friend should - a friend and a former partner. I looked at her tonight, really looked closely. Do you know what I saw? You. If I bever/b hurt you, or looked over you, it was for one reason.   
God, you're beautiful Monica. Your smiling face, radiant and trusting, and your empathy for others have been something to hold on to, something I can always reach for. You were there for me after Luke's death, and I never thanked you for it. I thank you now.   
I couldn't bear to look at you Monica, thinking that I could never have you as more than a friend. Call me dense, but I never saw...I'm sorry Monica. I was too caught up in my own woes to ever see yours. Now it might be too late to ever fix that stupid mistake. I couldn't figure it out soon enough to save you.   
I never thought you were crazy, Monica. Perhaps a bit eccentric, but never crazy. And I trusted your intuitions, even if I didn't show it. You were always right, Monica. Except this once.   
You thought that we could never be more than partners, and I have only one response: I love you too, Monica. I wish you had put your trust in human nature, just this once. I love you.  
~John"/i  
  
He finished the last paragraph without looking looking at the paper, for he had memorized what it said. Doggett met her gaze without fear, and without question - for both those emotions had passed with the trauma of the day. "I love you, Monica. And once you get out of here, I'm going to make sure that you never have reason to do anything like that to yourself ever again.  
  
Reyes' eyes were filled with tears, and she stared at him in pure disbelief. He reached out and brushed the tears from her cheeks. She managed a smile, and a happy one, at that. "I love you too, John. And I promise, I'll never do anything like that again. I believe you."  
  
Dana Scully had been watching this scene through the window outside of the hospital room, and she now tturned away, walking back towards the waiting room. They had found each other, just like she knew they would - she'd seen it sneaking up on them, even when they hadn't. As she stepped out into the parking lot, her gaze lifted up, blue eyes intent upon those glowing stars. A car horn startled her. "Cummon, Scully! William is tired of waiting!" She hasted her pace to the stalled vehicle.  
  
"I'm coming. It turned out to be a happy ending for Monica and John."  
  
"I told you it would."  
  
"You always have to be right, don't you Mulder?"  
  
END 


End file.
